Legends
by lalalei
Summary: Priest Seto was lucky to escape the shrine with his life. Kisara and her dragon's soul will be his death. And yet, in Rosenkreuz's dreams, their legend is very much alive. Post-Forbidden Memories, pre-Duelists of the Roses.


Priest Seto met Kisara in the desert, weeks after fleeing the Shrine of Darkness and hours past the point of heat-induced delirium, which was beginning to fester into a familiar rage. What grated on his soul the most was that his deck had eclipsed the Card Guardian's might. Had he dueled the spirit Heishin had failed to tame, Seto would have won, and Egypt—no, the world—would have fallen at his feet.

But the prince had defeated him and gone on to defeat DarkNite, and even spared him when Heishin had held a dagger to his throat. His enemy had given up the Millennium Items to save one who wanted him dead, and part of Seto wished he hadn't. Even a death like that would be preferable to this aimless future of wandering. He half-considered heading back and turning himself in to get it over with; perhaps his next life would prove more fruitful.

But that was before he met the girl.

At first he thought her a mirage shaped like a person. Kisara's shining silver hair flowed like water, and her deep blue eyes shone like the sea, before he noticed her feet sank into the sand, and the hand reaching out to take his was decidedly solid. Bereft of his magic, but not his wits, Seto took Kisara's harried appearance—and especially her demeanor—as a bad omen.

* * *

What put Priest Seto on edge most was how calm the girl was. Kisara held no fear in her eyes at all as she faced him, only curiosity, and perhaps a touch of affection. Did she not know who he _was_ , who he'd been? Seto decided to test her will, and so he told her.

In bits and pieces, he wove his story, a tale of conquest and wicked spirits, of bloodlines and betrayal. He dearly wished to leave out the part where the prince had bested him against all odds, but falsehoods now would not serve his purpose. Seto wanted her to know how close he'd been to attaining ultimate power, only to have it dashed before his eyes.

Kisara listened, and when he had finished she clasped his hand in two of hers, squeezing with a grip he hadn't thought possible from looking at her.

"Next time, then," she breathed, and refused to elaborate. But her intention was clear—she'd stay. For her to find him at all in this desert, to know who the priest had been and _trust_ him, proved that Kisara had power that rivaled what he once had. Therefore, he thought it best to wait and see.

He was proven right.

* * *

That night, as Kisara unleashed the power of a Blue-Eyes White Dragon to scout for food and shelter, Seto watched with a mixture of awe, respect, and rabid jealousy. How _dare_ this slip of a girl wield such might, he thought venomously, then collected himself in case her powers went beyond the physical realm. Dragons hoarded many things, he knew, and hoarding others' thoughts to peruse them at leisure was a possibility the priest couldn't risk.

When the dragon returned, Kisara offered him water she'd collected from a nearby oasis, and Seto waited until she drank before accepting. The fact that it wasn't poisoned only cemented his earlier thoughts.

This too-calm, quiet girl would be the death of him.

* * *

"Tell me about the dragon," he said one night, under the shelter of its wingspan. "Is it you? Connected to you?"

Kisara met its protective gaze for a moment before turning to the priest. "I'm not entirely sure," she lied, and he caught it as her hands clenched into fists.

"Aren't you," he asked, and she shook her head. "I don't know when it first began to happen, at least. I know that I can—I can make it _appear_ , command it."

Her tone implied there was more to it than that, but Kisara trailed off, and he let her.

Lies and half-truths were fine, Seto thought.

He'd just have to find the truth on his own.

* * *

 _In his dreams Seto kisses her, then runs her through with a sword. Her blood flows silver and blue down his arms, pooling and solidifying across his chest into a dragon's head armor._

 _She smiles as she passes on, her words fading into the wind and desert sands, yet still reaching his ears._

" _Even with my power, you'll fail. Look ahead, not back."_

 _He turns back and watches as the dying Blue-Eyes devours them both._

 _He smiles._

 _Together they are legend._

* * *

"They'll sing legends of us," Kisara murmured softly, silver hair cascading over her eyes and hiding them from view. "The priest who lost everything in his search for power, and the maiden who returned that power. I could, if you asked."

"Don't," Seto breathed, voice low and dangerous. "My cards were all the power I could ever need, with the strongest even eclipsing yours."

She tilted her head at that, and the priest showed her his bounty: Meteor B. Dragon, Gate Guardian, and the indescribably strong Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon. Kisara had to admit they were very strong; nothing she had seen came close to their power. And yet…

"Then how is it you lost," she said pointedly, relishing the fire in his eyes as her words left their mark. The priest glared. "Surely it wasn't _luck_."

"It _had_ to be luck," Seto bit out, words falling like a curse. "I would have had him beaten, had he not drawn into Crush Card at the final hour." That memory was doubly painful, as the destructive Crush Card was well known as one of the priest's favored cards, second only to Raigeki and the Ultimate Dragon.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, her voice never rising above a silken thread, carried away on the wind. "It must have been very painful to come so far and lose. Though I wish I did not, Seto, I _do_ know pain. I wish I could ease yours."

This time he believed her.

* * *

Priest Seto dared to hope again. If not here and now, then others—his descendants, those who shared his blood—would follow.

No matter where he stood now, where they might stand, no matter where things might be, his desires would be a constant. Seto knew this as surely as he breathed.

And though he couldn't say why, he imagined Kisara and her dragon as ethereal, destined to pass into the mists of time, never to incarnate again.

Perhaps she knew that too, and that was why she held fast to her own stories and listened so intently to his.

* * *

" _Tell me," he breathes, "about you. Who are you? Where did you come from?"_

 _He is aware that his thirst for knowledge has become a dangerous obsession._

 _She smiles, but doesn't answer._

 _His blood freezes inside as he realizes the dragon's trap._

* * *

In the end Seto's dreams came true, to a point. It was poison, not a sword, that laid her low even when the dragon would have prevented it. Her blood ran red, staining her mouth and body, silver and blue roiling in her eyes like a storm.

"Look to the past," she whispered as she died.

Kisara had kissed him first, and the dragon devoured him last, and that was where she had won out.

Seto's name would follow, but Kisara's would always come first.

* * *

 _His descendants will dream, as he did._

 _They will carry on his quest for power, before he became entangled with the dragon maiden and after she rekindled his hope for a future conquest._

 _They will succeed, or so he hopes._

 _And if not they too will be legend._

* * *

 _I leave this message for those who follow in my path. The Guardian who falleth at the hands of man was naught but a mere mortal. Journey forth and seek the true Guardian. For he shall be the one to guide thee to glory._

 _-Seto, High Mage of Amenhotep_

C. Seto Rosenkreuz studied the ancient script again, and a plan naturally unfolded before his mind's eye, of conquest and wicked spirits, bloodlines and betrayal. Yes, this would work. The Rose Duelist would be yet another pawn in his lifelong game for power, and he would succeed where his ancestors had failed. His deck was ready; his spirit was ready; his mind was sharp. All that remained now was to spring the trap.

Power and cunning, he thought. That was the key to victory. Nothing more, nothing less.

His Blue-Eyes armor shimmered in the candlelight, and for a moment he felt it was alive and breathing.

"They'll sing legends of me," Rosenkreuz breathed, and in the void of night a woman's voice echoed his words.

That night his dreams continued further then they'd ever gone.

* * *

 _Dragons hoard things other than gold, he knows. Some hoard power, some love, others legends._

 _Kisara hoards all of the above._

 _Their power is unwavering, their love pure and twisted in equal measure,_ _ _and though she was his death, in legends their life is eternal_._

 _It's not the throne, Seto thinks, but for now it is enough._


End file.
